


Sitting In The Silence

by WriterJay4



Series: SITS-Series [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, no TB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-13 12:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterJay4/pseuds/WriterJay4
Summary: Arthur Morgan, a man with memories of his past that he can't seem to recall. He's lived his life as a bounty hunter for over a year now, with questions that linger in his mind.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Series: SITS-Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549264
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	1. Beginning of Whats To Come

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally writing a vandermorgan story-line. I've been dying to write one but I had no idea where I would take the story, let alone even know where to start. But alas I have a story in mind. Here's hoping it turns out to be a solid!
> 
> Before reading note this story will dive into the psyche. So there will a-lot of dark themes through the story. Also trigger warning when it comes to self-harm(cutting, etc). 
> 
> Hope my writing isn't too sloppy :') Enjoy!

The darkness consumes the room. A void of blackness that was all too familiar. Something that never seemed to get old. 

The man sitting in the darkness, sits still, fixated on the emptiness he feels. His mind and surrounding were one in the same. Both vacant and cold, with not much too them. 

He found himself shifting positions. From being curled up in a corner to standing up on his feet. He hissed as he stood, feeling his body ache from being still for god knows how long. His knees gave way, collapsing onto the cold yet wet floor. He let out a grunt upon impact.

His body began aching once again, now feeling the pain in his knees begin to escalate. He grabbed a hold of both knee caps. Putting pressure on it to ease the prickly sensation. 

After a few minutes had passed, he removed his palms only to feel the sting come back. Grabbing his caps, he let out a low whimper trying to keep himself from being loud. For some reason he didn’t know why he wanted to avoid being noisy. 

He hadn’t put much thought into it. Mainly keep his attention on his knees. But he couldn’t help but start to question the void he rested in. 

“Where...” he started “...where am I?”

He sat there now glancing left and right trying to find anything. Something that could indicate where he was. Was this a dream, he thought. Giving it too much attention for his liking. A surge of pain was sent up his leg, at that moment he immediately dropped the idea of being in a dream. 

The pain he felt was too real to him. 

With the constant train of possibilities soar through him, he hadn’t realized the sound coming from his left. He turns his head slowly toward what his ears had caught. There wasn’t anything for a few moments, but the sound picked back up again. 

To him it sounded muffled. Someone was nearby, and he could feel a sense of relief rushing through him. He wanted to shout for them. He wanted to call out for help. But before he could, he hears something snap. To him it sounded like a door being unlatched. Soon after light poured in on him. 

It blinded the man as he turned away feeling his eyes burn from the ray that laid upon them. A sound of discomfort escaped his lips, he wanted to look up but the light was too much to bare. He lets his knee go and puts his arm in front of him, trying to gain his vision back.

“Would you look at that, seems like he’s up” someone spook stepping into the room, followed by another pair of steps.

He moved his arms from his eyes, squinting at the 2 figures standing above him. The man to his left wore a black coat with a white collar shirt and a red vest. While the man to the right of him was wearing a light brown coat, along with a black vest and buttoned up shirt. 

“Hey” the one to his left started, “Stand up, it's time you start over, Mr.Morgan”

____________________________________________

1 year later....

Over a year has passed since that day. To Arthur it felt like yesterday that he found himself graced along the floor. Not knowing what he was doing and where he was. 

He took in the morning air, staring down at the city streets of Saint Denis from the balcony of the saloon. With a bottle in hand, he glanced around observing the carriages and wagons as they ride by. The streets of Saint Denis seemed to always be busy, regardless of time. Even in bad weather people still roamed the city. 

Arthur took a sip of his beer, finishing up the small amount at the bottom. He placed the bottle on an empty table before leaning against the railings. With one of his arms keeping him up. His free hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. 

Arthur took a smoke to pass the time.  
“God damn it Carson what's takin’ you so long” he muffles through his cigar. 

Usually his friend wouldn’t take so long to arrive at their meetup spot. Seems like he was caught up in some other business, because Arthur had been standing around awaiting his arrival for 10 minutes. Arthur had basically finished his entire pack, taking the last cigar out before throwing the pack aside. 

Footsteps came from behind him, “Jesus Morgan, you should really stop smokin’”.

Arthur turns his head to the side, making eye contact with Carson. “Well you know, it’s really the only thing I can do waitin for slow pokes round here-“ 

“Oh hush now. I’m only off by a little”.

“A Little?” Arthur chuckled “You call gettin here nearly fifteen minutes a little?!” 

Carson clears his throat, “Okay...okay mister ‘be on time’. You even know the trouble I went through to get here?” 

“Let me guess you were captivated by all the women you stumbled across” 

There was a short pause ”....well.”

Arthur shakes his head looking away, “Knew it” he says blowing out his smoke.

“Hey we bounty hunters need a break every once in awhile. You know? Go out to one of them shows, go travilin-“ 

“You sure you ain’t doin that every other day?” 

Carson laughs,“Ohh, there really is no gettin through to you Arthur”.

“Sure, we still gettin that bounty aren’t we?” 

Carson pats Arthur’s shoulder “Course we are” he begins walking back inside with Arthur following him behind. “Now last I heard this bastard was spotted North from here, in Lagras”

They both started down the stairs, “Cooper James right?” Arthur questions.

“Yup, sick fuck murdered a family somewhere west of our city.”

“Shit”

“Yeah...this bastard was dumb enough to hang his victims in the trees lines. Only makes our job easier if you ask me” Carson says reaching the main floor. 

Both men exited the crowded saloon. When they got outside they both walked over to their hitched horses. With Arthur’s being the closest, he pulls himself up sliding himself onto the saddle. 

Carson stops next to his own horse. Surveying Arthur’s horse then looking up at Arthur. “New horse I see”. 

Arthur nods, “He’s something else, little old Kentucky wasn’t cutting it for me. Took her back to the stable and said my goodbyes. I’ll never forget her”. 

“Takes a lot of balls” he responds  
Arthur gives Carson a look, squinting his eyes with a grin on his face. “I’m not sure if you actually meant that or you're just mockin me”

Carson exclaims, “No I’m being serious Arthur. It’s like losing a friend”

Arthur hums agreeing with Carson’s statement. 

“So what did you name him” he asks Arthur. There was a long pause. The smile that once rested on Arthur’s face faded into a frown. He sat there looking away from Carson for a moment.  
“I...uh” he stutters hesitating to tell him. Carson took notice in Arthur’s mood shift. This wasn’t something entirely new to him. Arthur was known to shut down every so often, for reasons Carson couldn’t even explain, let alone ask. To him it felt like stepping into boundaries beyond his knowledge. So he would always either leave Arthur be or snap him back to reality. Cause to Carson, it didn’t seem like Arthur was right in the head at times.  
“Arthur…”  
His eyes separated from the sidewalk, sliding over to Carson. “...you alright there?”

At that moment Arthur’s frown dissipated. “Y-Yeah…..yeah I’m alright...um, sorry I” an awkward laugh escaped his lips. “What..uh..what were you asking?”

Carson found himself asking the question for the second time. 

“Oh he...his name is...Jeremy” he finally spits out. 

“A fine name indeed” he comments.

“Sure”.

“Now let’s not waste anymore time, let's get ourselves that bounty.” Carson steers his horse around. A clap from the reins causes the horse to tread. “Come on Morgan, we don’t want to be anymore late now do we?” 

Arthur smiles as he follows closely behind Carson’s horse. “About time you got that head of yours on”. Carson laughs along with Arthur. Through his laughter Arthur knew he lied, Arthur knew Jeremey wasn’t the name he gave the horse. Giving names to horses wasn’t his specialty, when he got his first horse, he just named it after the breed it happens to be. But the one he owns now..for this horse he did have a name in mind. Arthur had no idea why this name made him sad...but also so very, very happy. 

The name being…

...Dutch.


	2. A Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here!  
Hope you enjoy! :)

The horses slowed down coming to a halt. Both Carson and Arthur stare at the cabins resting near the green waters.

Carson pulled his horse over near a tree, suggesting Arthur does the same. Sliding off their horses the soft muddy ground collapses under their weight. Leaving a boot print in the brown mud. 

Arthur looks down with a disgusted look on his face, “I always hated these swamps”. 

“What you hate is what I love dear friend” 

He rolls his eyes at Carson, “So...where do you think we should start lookin?” 

Carson took in a deep breathe. He gazed around the perimeter. There were 5 small homes. 1 far off to the left and 4 to the right of them. 

“Lets ask the people around here. They should know more bout these parts then we do”. 

“Hold on a second” Arthur stops Carson before he started walking off. “What does the man look like”? 

The eyes on Carson lit up, showing a sense of guilt. “Shit, you don’t even know what the bastard looks like”. Carson grabs a rolled him poster from his horse’s saddle. Grasping at it he pulls it out passing the roll over to Arthur. 

Arthur grabs it and begins unraveling the roll that came loose in seconds. Cooper James, his expression on the light brown material made him seem intimidating. A scar along his forehead, glides down to the center of his eyes. Arthur takes a moment wondering where he had gotten the scar. He guessed an Alligator must have done so, considering where they were. But Cooper was murdering civilians in random regions. There was no telling where this man could be held up. 

Getting away from the scar Arthur takes in other features, like his crazed hair style and lighter skin tone. He couldn’t say for sure what color the man’s eyes or hair was. The poster didn’t have any color after all, at times that made Arthur’s job more of a hassle. However he always achieved the goal. Throwing those who cause harm behind bars. 

Arthur rolls the poster back up, “Okay...so lighter skin fellow with messy hair..got it” he tosses the poster to Carson. “Here’s hoping he actually stuck around”

“Mhm, I’ll go over to the cabin down there” Carson points over to the home with a gray exterior, “You can take the blue cabin right there”. 

Arthur nods as the two begin separating.

Climbing the small stairs of the blue house a small creak from the wood erupted underneath him. When stepping onto the porch Arthur glances over his shoulder. To see Carson, taking strange steps. 

The way he walked spoke volumes of confidence. Like the guy was living the dream. Like nothing could topple his ego. Arthur observed him in hopes that he’d trip over. Along with his unwanted charm. The thought of witnessing such, brought a small grin to his face. 

Although Arthur didn’t want to admit it, Carson was family to him. A brother he didn’t want to lose. The only one who willingly talked to Arthur.

—

He remembers meeting Carson a month after getting out of that dark room. The room that Arthur’s earliest memories rested in.

The 2 men standing in the doorway of light pulled Arthur to his feet. Gripping him by the forearms tightly. They dragged him out of the colorless abyss and everything went blank for him.

Next thing he knows, he’s sitting in front of a desk with a figure on the other side. A man dressed in blue. With golden buttons parallel to one another, trailing down his blue coat. 

The man in blue was writing on a small card.  
At a slow pace, he hesitated at times peeking over at the Pinkerton Agent standing beside Arthur. The Agent nods at the sheriff, only encouraging that he finishes quickly. 

He occasionally locks eyes with Arthur. A sense of hate, fear, and anxiousness poured through them.

Arthur just sat there bewildered by the sheriff's expression.  
What was that all about, he asks himself. 

The Sheriff completes the signature before sliding the card over to the agent alongside the pen. The agent swiftly signs his name onto the slip.

Agent Milton, it read.

“Mr.Morgan” the Agent says “Welcome to the world of bounty hunting.” He hands the card to Arthur. 

He grabs the slip

Bounty Hunting...huh.

For the next couple of days being watched over by the Pinkerton Agency, he was given food and was rented into a hotel in Saint Denis. The same hotel he still lives in now. 

Agent Milton had also given him a horse. A Kentucky Saddler. His very first horse. Instantly he fell in love with the animal. Always taking her anywhere in the city, even if it was just to get a haircut down the street from his hotel complex.

One day Milton knocks on Arthur’s door. Quick to answer Arthur opens it in seconds. 

Arthur is about to mouth the words,Hello. 

But he doesn’t get the chance to. 

“Get ready, it's your first day on the job,” the agent says immediately heading out the building, leaving Arthur with no time to reply. 

Okay...he wasn’t anticipating today being the start. Arthur closes the door. 

Preparing himself he threw on the clothing given to him when he first got his room. 

A brown coat with a white collar shirt. Followed by a red neck tie and crimson vest. He hurried himself not wanting to keep Milton waiting.

On his way out he tightens his neck wear before stepping outside. 

Milton with his back to him stood there chatting with another man. Arthur comes up to them and is introduced to the unknown individual. 

“Arthur, Carson. Carson, Arthur” Milton says. “You two will be working together from this point on. Carson here has two years of experience under his belt, so I’m sure he’ll teach you the ropes ‘properly’”. 

Carson rolled his eyes smirking a bit. 

“I will be checking up on you Mr.Morgan every month. I better here some good things, you hear?” 

Arthur didn’t say anything.

It was like a son taking orders from his father. 

Father...

...and son

.....

Carson breaks the awkward silence, “I’m sure he’s got it and by the way...uhh...Arthur right? I actually have 2 years and a month of experience , so don’t mind little old Milton here. Besides that it’s a pleasure to meet ya!” 

He reached out for a hand shake. Arthur still stuck in his head looked down at Carson’s hand. 

The guy was so welcoming.  
Reaching out palms grasping one another, Arthur's eyes come in line with Carson and finally spitting out a sentence. 

“It's nice to meet you too”.

—

Arthur chuckles a bit, looking back at that time period. 

Oh Carson, you silly bastard. 

After a moment of thinking Arthur removes his mind and vision away from Carson to survey his surroundings. There was not a single person in sight. 

No one fishing off to the side. No one relaxing on the porches. No one’s even out on the murky river. Just a ghost town. Any travelers coming by would assume the area was abandoned. Leaving all their items behind for the nightfolk. 

Taking note of the silence, Arthur turns back to the door and knocks. 

There was no answer. 

He knocks again taking his attention off the door to gaze at the empty area once more. There was something in the back of his mind telling him something ain’t right here. But he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.

Do the people of Lagras just sleep in or something? The idea made Arthur want to smirk at how ridiculous it sounded. Even if that was the case someone should’ve heard his knocks by now. 

Carson far off began to get wary as well. He too gets this eerie sensation that's crawling up his spine. He turns his head looking to his sides, in hopes of seeing any form of life. Not a single life form other than Arthur and the animals roaming the swamps around them.

Arthur could just barely spot Carson through the slightly, humid fog setting in. Followed by a strong heat wave sliding against Arthur's skin. 

Becoming impatient Arthur starts banging on the door, “Hello!? Anyone in there”? 

No one came. Arthur sighs, turning himself around, giving in to the silence of the home. He decides to head for the next cabin. 

Arthur started down the few stairs of the first house. 

But then he hears a thud. 

Pausing in place with one foot on the last step, he turns around, eyes searching for the source. First at the ground, the wall, and then the door. 

He brushed it up to be an unstable porch. For all he knew the wood could be on the verge of snapping. His conclusion was soon dropped when a faint yelp caught his ears. 

Followed by a weak moan.

Someone was in distress, a woman to be exact. 

Arthur springs into action, he paces up the stairs heart pumping and legs skipping over every other step. Once on the porch he leans against the door. “Ma’am you in there?” He questions expecting an answer.

He hesitated for a second finding it wrong to open someone else's door without their permission. Another yelp was just enough for Arthur to try the knob on the door. 

It caught him off guard when it opened, not expecting it to be unlocked. He steps into house. 

Instantly his expression flipped then and there.

Blood.

There was blood splattered on the walls and floor. 

A bath of blood. A house of blood. A room of blood. 

Arthur steps back frightened by the scene, “What the hell.”

Every corner of the room was painted red. Most of the furniture in the house was glossed over. The table, chairs, fireplace, counter, cabinets, all taking on a new shade. 

It was horrific. 

Never has he seen so much blood before. 

Arthur peers over to the corner of the room. There rested the women, head tilted up placed on the wall. Her breathing frantic, like something she hasn’t adapted to. 

“Oh god, Ma’am...ma’am” Arthur kneels next to her. “Are you okay”. Just looking at her, Arthur knew she wasn’t okay yet he still asked. Her hand was placed over her stomach trying to hold back the red liquid that only spilled out onto her thighs. He could see the blood was easily slipping between her fingers. It was useless at that point.

Blood.  
So much blood.

“N-no” she spook. 

“Your gonna be just fine. Let’s get you to the doctor alright?” Arthur prepares to lift the women. 

She stutters, “No” this time in a firm tone. “Go...Go! Before h-he comes back...”

Cooper...Arthur thought, its gotta be him. What that man was capable of disgusted Arthur. It made him want to vomit. A human harming another, robbing, torturing,killing, it’s wrong....no matter how you look at it. Arthur always stuck by his ideals, not letting the cruelty of the world distort his mind.

He shook his head at her claim, “That's not going to happen.” Arthur analyzes the women’s body, and he reaches down for her legs, which seemed to be unharmed, preparing himself to carry her in his arms. 

Before he knew it footsteps could be heard coming from outside the door. The sound of the same wood creaking made the lady squeal a bit, trying her best to hold in her fear. The fear she had toward a demented man. 

Arthur’s heart picks up and he pulls his gun from his holster. Specifically a Cattleman Revolver. He thought for a moment, did Cooper get Carson without him realizing. Did he slit his throat? Stab him in the neck? Break his neck? He only hoped that his friend wasn’t painfully murdered. 

No. No. No. No. No. 

Arthur clutches his gun only dreading the worst to come. Clenching his teeth in the process. Maybe Cooper did kill Carson and now Arthur would be next. To die in the hands of a bastard who enjoys killing, someone who would laugh as they slowly cut into your skin followed by your muffled screams. Only thing you’d have to do is endure the pain. Endure the agonizing last moments of life. 

He wondered how things would be without Carson. 

No. NO! 

Despicable.

Arthur squeezes the grip tighter and pulls back on the gun’s hammer. If he was going to die here he wouldn’t be going down without a fight that's for sure. He points in the direction of the door frame, one finger on the trigger. Ready to pull back.

“Arthur...” he hears “You in there?” 

A waterfall of relief washes over him. He sighs at the familiar voice as he slides his revolver back in place. It's only Carson. Arthur calls back to him he wanted to yell at him for being way to quiet, “Yea! Could you give me a hand in here.”

Carson walks in, “With what exact- Holy mother of god! The hell happened here?!” Carson gazes around until meeting eyes with Arthur. 

He rushes over to the two immediately spotting her wounds. “Good lord...Ma’am...uh here let me assist”. Carson reaches his hand toward her. She flinches away not wanting any contact. 

“Please” she begs “Just leave me!” 

Arthur looks to Carson, “She ain’t thinking straight, the blood lose must be gettin to her head”. Carson nods his head agreeing with Arthur’s claims. “Although she did mention someone attacking her.” 

Arthur receives an expression of curiosity and fear from Carson. “Cooper…it’s more than likely him”, Arthur claims.

“Shit, well first comes the people”. Arthur nods in responds, both turning their attention back to the wounded lady. 

Both then begin getting the woman to her feet, it was a struggle as she tried freeing herself from their grasps. But she eventually gave in as it only made the pain in her stomach worse. After she settles down, Carson pulls away going ahead of the two which left Arthur to help her out of the house. Exiting back out into the humidity Carson whistles for the horses. 

A few seconds later the horses come to their aid.

“Here, let’s get her onto your horse” Carson commands grabbing a hold of the reins attached to Arthur’s horse. He pulls the horse over to them making the process easier. After Arthur and the woman finish descending the stairs, Carson holds the lady up as Arthur mounts. 

Arthur reaches down for her hands, awaiting to feel her grip. She wouldn’t bat a muscle, but she still kept herself from going limp. Hands stuck to the wound. 

Carson then lifts her up causing her to hiss for a moment,he placed her on top of the horse behind Arthur. The lady being exhausted from all the pain lazily places her arms around Arthur’s hips, with her head against his spine. 

“It’s going to be okay, you're safe now”, the assurance from Arthur made her cry. Made her feel a sense of security. 

“My-my husbands he’s...he was killed” she staggers, tears storming her cheek. 

She lost someone to that evil man. 

Lost someone she cared deeply for. 

Arthur sat there for a moment glancing over at Carson. The guy sat on his horse looking at the women with sorrow in his eyes. The one thing both Arthur and Carson loved and hated about this job was upon them. 

They loved saving people.  
But hated seeing those in pain.

Carson was used to these situations but through his expression, it's obvious that it still pains Carson to see it happening. 

Before Arthur knew it his hand reaches down to his hip. He allowed himself to rest his hand on hers. Completely cold. 

He felt for her lost. He too felt like he’d lost something, someone, somewhere. But what did he lose that allows him to relate to her? Nothing that he could remember came to mind. He hated that feeling. Hated more than anything. He so deeply wanted to know about his past. He wanted to know who he was before that room. The people he used to know. The places he used to live. Was he a good man before, or a bad one? It was always like this for Arthur...everyday wondering...with no answers. He wanted to know however something in the back of his mind told him, its better to leave it all in the past and forget, and to never remember any of it. Guilt. He felt it.  
The silence was broken by the hooves of Carson’s horse smacking the mud. Arthur's head jolts up from looking down at the mud. “Arthur" Carson says "Go, I’ll stay and see if I can find anything”.

Arthur nods, he grabs hold of the reins and rides back to Saint Denis. 

Hours had passed since he'd brought the injured woman to the doctor. She had suffered multiple cuts around her torso. Along with the gash that stretched halfway across her stomach. The doctor was able to stitch up the wounds but suggested she rested for a few days before finding a new home. 

As for Cooper, Carson couldn’t find any trace of his whereabouts. For all they knew the man could’ve been long gone before they arrived in Lagras. As for the woman's husband it was unclear to both of them where his body was. Arthur wanted to ask her about it but ignored the urge to do so. 

Arthur leans against the pole that stands tall, across the street from the doctor’s office. He keeps his eyes focused on the building, not waiting for anything in particular. Carson had left not to long ago after returning to the city and went to grab food for the evening. He had asked Arthur to tag along but Arthur declined, suggesting that he had plans for the rest of the day. A strong urgency to go back out into the spawns and catch the maniac swelled his entire body. But the last thing he wanted was to be aimlessly searching in the dark. A perfect victim for the night folk.

He took in a deep breath taking his weight off the pole. Arthur decides it best to head home for the day. 

Upon arriving home, he found himself falling onto his bed. Exhausted by all the stress he looks up at the ceiling. Nothing more than a stale green flat above. He kicks off his boots and begins scooting deeper into his bed. 

With thoughts still running in his head Arthur tries sleeping but can’t seem to slip his way into slumber. As usual Arthur had trouble sleeping. Same thing as last night, the night before, and the night before that.

Half an hour of laying down rolls by and Arthur slowly falls into a dream. His muscles relaxes, body losing tension and mind slowing down.

The Dream. 

The dream was filled with freedom and love. 

No more robbing. No more killing.  
It was paradise. Arthur finds himself standing near an ocean. Waves coming to shore, absorbing his feet. The cool breeze pushing against his body. To his left stood Carson opening up his shirt to the air. With a grin. To his right stood Milton looking off into the sea ahead of them. With an almost unnoticeable smile. Something Arthur rarely sees.

These two were family, he was with his family. Carson was like a brother and Milton was like a father. 

It was a dream he never wanted to wake up from.


	3. No Time For Soothing

1 week Later...

\---  
The door to the bathroom swung up, with Arthur stepping in, a robe wrapped firmly around his body a slight warmth blowing against his skin. He shuts the door behind him, stepping further in he sees the tub, set steady in the middle of the room tempting him to jump in with his clothing. After such a frustrating few days Arthur was more than ready to dip into the bubbles and sink below the surface. To feel the heat sizzling along his body, he needed this. 

Unwrapping the tie above his hips, Arthur lets the blue robe fall, first by shrugging the top off his shoulders and letting the soft material hit the floor. Followed by his feet smacking the ground as he let himself slide into the white container holding his relaxation. The fragile bubbles. The hot liquid. He lets out a loud ‘Ahh’ moments before settling into the confinement. Pressed back against one end of the tub as he closes his eyes. 

The calm atmosphere put Arthur at ease. His muscles settled, he hadn’t noticed how uptight and stiff he felt until letting himself go. To let himself fall below the water’s surface would be a blessing. To let all his worries and fears evaporate from the heat, if only. 

Arthur kept his head tilted skyward, only letting himself feel and not see with his eyes still closed. Inhaling the steam Arthur couldn’t seem to concentrate his mind on the peace, the silence. He never could, there was always something keeping him from hearing the muted surroundings. Peace to him was such a forgein notion at the point of no return. Or, to him, it seemed like an impossibility. 

The man shifted unsettled by his own train of thought. A rub down should do the trick he thought as lifted his left leg and pulled it close enough to reach. Arthur jerked himself up, back away from the edge.  
...oh right...those scars...  
With both hands he scrubs at his leg, fiction between the skin. He kept his eyes away from his skin, avoiding the pink marks tempting him to peek. He scrubbed for a couple of seconds before transferring over to his other leg. This time scrubbing quicker but slowing done a few times. As much as he wanted to savor the moment he couldn’t fight the need to escape. To get his mind elsewhere. Away from those marks that healed, but brought pain.

He paused at the sudden knock from the door. “Sweety, would you like some assistance in there?” 

Oh brother, Arthur thought, the woman on the other side must’ve caught sight of him early. It's not the first time Arthur had attracted the attention of women. Every now and then he would receive compliments relating to his appearance. Intrigued by his muscular built, occasionally one would ask if he wanted to have a ‘good time’. Arthur politely denies such request not simply because he found the women unappealing or unattractive. He just didn’t want to be with anyone as a matter of fact. For a while Arthur tried following Carson's flirting techniques to no avail. It never register properly to Arthur even when she would accept getting in bed with him. Arthur could barely get past 5 mins before exiting the room, feeling empathy for the lady he’d leave behind. To him, being ‘on top’ wasn’t something he considered being his role. 

If anything, Arthur wanted someone who could dominate him. Someone who could hold him down, strong hands over his wrist. 

Pure power, someone with authority. Someone in full control. 

Arthur calls back, “No, but thanks for the offer.''

“Aw” she sucks her teeth “Suit yourself”, her footsteps grew distance as it faded into nothing.

Arthur continuously cleanses the remains of his body. He left a few spots untouched as he crawled his way to his feet. Water trickling from his frame, Arthur grabs for the towel dangling from the hanger on the wall. Grasping at it he wipes the material firmly across the descending liquid, getting as much off before picking up his robe. As tight as he could he pulls both loose ends together hips compressing at the tightness. 

Then Arthur leaves the room, entering the halls of the hotel. The light from the window behind him illuminated the dim hallway, slightly gray from the afternoon weather. Arthur makes his way down the hall. A chill formed from the movement against him. Even the warm bath couldn’t protect him from the inescapable breeze. A quick pace back to his room would be worth the sharp feeling. 

Upon turning the corner of the small hall, he enters another hall a lot longer and filled with numbers on each door. Room B4 was his room number. Gazing down the hall he lays eyes on a familiar figure, standing at one of the door frames, hands tucked in his belt.

Agent Milton. He guested today was his check up from Milton as per usual every month.The agent’s hand released his belt knocking on the door, it created a rattle within Arthur to pick up the pace. Arthur didn’t even want to know how long Milton had stood there for. Hopefully not too long, “Milton!” Arthur greeted.

Milton’s gazes over at Arthur, “Ah there you are Mr.Morgan, I thought for a minute you might’ve taken off”. 

Arthur closes the gap between them, “Yeah? Here's hoping I ain’t away when you stop by next time”. 

With Milton nodding in agreement Arthur reaches for the key in his pocket, surprisingly it hadn’t fallen out in the bathroom. “It’s good to see you again.” Milton mentions placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. 

“It’s good to see you too” Arthur begins opening the door. “Coffee?” 

“Sure, why not?” 

Both men stepped into the room, the smell of returning home hitting Arthur. “Let me get dressed up and I’ll get the drinks up”. After Milton sets himself down onto the couch Arthur closes the front door and paces into his bedroom. 

Milton on the other hand leans back in his seat getting comfortable on the green material. To pass the time Milton glances around, seeing if Arthur made any innovation to his home. Being back at the place for the tenth time Milton was fairly familiar with the layout. 

Two couches both facing one another with a small wooden table between them. In the corner contained multiple counters attached and curving at the wall. A big table with four chairs surrounding it off to the side of the kitchen. There wasn’t much else aside from a few nearly unnoticeable cabinets and the very few portrays on the wall. Arthur was definitely a sucker for art. Always seemed to be beyond reality while his pencil scribbled over the sheets in his journal. Milton always found the man’s artistic trait as a gift, something to keep his mind busy. So it came as a bit of a surprise, at the lack of any add-ons. “Hmm..” he murmurs seconds before Arthur’s presence fills the living area. Body draped in white and blue. From the bright union suit to his dark cuffed pants. 

“Sorry for the hold up…” Arthur mentions turning the stove to a reasonable temperature. “...I was taking a load off”.

“Could tell by your clothing. So,how’s work going for you?” 

Arthur grabs the lasting few ground coffee from a cabinet, “Work? It’s been uh...not the best. Was after some killer, named Copper James, Carson and I couldn’t get em. We found a badly injured woman, got to her to the doctor and nothing else came up from what I know”. With a small pot filled with water over the stove Arthur tosses the ground coffee inside. The bubbles from the pot popping under the conversation. 

Milton pauses for a moment, “What happened to her?” 

Arthur sucks the boiling air through his nostrils leaning against the corner. “She got a deep gash over her stomach.” 

“Jesus.”

“I know, that…that women and all the people in Lagras…” he looks down at his own boots,what a disaster. Arthur finishes “I just hope they’re in a better place now.” 

Both couldn’t agree more, a nod made it clear. Submerged by the silence Arthur turns himself around, the coffee should be done. 

After pouring 2 mugs up, he sets both down on the table separating him from Milton. “Here you go”. 

Milton thanks Arthur and takes hold of the handle. A sip at the coffee was enough to change Milton’s expression. A man who wasn’t known to express much aside from, well, his resting face. Which appeared uninterested and empty at times, became delighted.

With age comes numbness it seemed. “Mm” the older man muffles into the mug. 

“Tasteful?” Arthur teases also taking a sip at the drink. 

“Indeed it is” Milton replies sipping immediately after commenting. 

Arthur smirks through the drink, he found it amusing how Milton was letting his serious demeanor drop. Just for this moment, to enjoy the taste of coffee, of all things. In sync, Arthur and Milton remove the mug from their lips. 

“I’ve got to say, you have a fine hand at brewing,son”. 

Arthur particularly embraced the comment,“I..I suppose.”

“Not too sweet and not too bitter, I think I’ll have to observe how you manage that pot.” 

Arthur chuckled, “Sure, if you need any more you can always stop by.” 

The agent frowns a bit, “I wish I could, but you know how the world is. Still much work to be done.” Milton could only be referring to one thing, gangs. “Low lives who can’t accept society, people who can’t give in to the new world.” He shook his head, “Such a shame”. Milton takes another sip in hopes of gulping down the tragedy. Arthur falls silent. “What do you think Morgan...bout them gangs?” 

Arthur wanted to shrug. Oddly enough. Gangs are abominable, he knew that, men filled with greed and murderous tenacity won't stand tall for long. Eventually the Pinkertons will catch up with them. All. But...can all gangs really be evil? “Couldn’t agree more...” Arthur replies with his head tilting down. With Milton’s gaze piercing his hair and skull Arthur continues, “...those people,them gangs, they will all die savagely, all of em.” Such a statement gave way to the settle mixture of emotion. 

Pride and Sickness. It really was a shame. 

Milton chuckled, “Stealing my line I see.” 

“I got it from the best” Arthur smiled eyes gazing back up. Alining with his father. A moment of silence washed over the room, the world going quiet. Milton’s brown eyes looked different from those cold heartless pupils many months ago, to the warm heartfelt lens Arthur sees before him. He cared, he really did.

Milton nods shifting in his seat,fazed. “So...you heard about the mayor’s party?” 

“Mayor’s party?” 

“Yes. It’s why I stopped by.” Milton reached inside the front of his coat, coffee in the opposite hand, easily pulling out a card. He hands it over to Arthur who gives it a quick look. On it read...

You are Invited. 

Arthur didn’t even bother looking through the rest, he had jolted his vision up to Milton. Searching for an explanation. “Wha...why am I-“ 

“Go” Milton interrupted in a stern tone, “Considering the work you’ve done for society...I’d say you deserve it.” 

Arthur stares at Milton for a moment, there wasn’t a hint of mockery in his expression. He knew the agent never told jokes. Whatever slipped his mouth was certain. 

Arthur looks back down at the card in his hands. Rereading the 3 words he looks at the photo of the house, or mansion per say. He was way too familiar with the wealthy streets of the city to easily recognize the structure. The Mayor wanted him? A bounty hunter of all people. “Shouldn’t this be handed to the rich?” he joked. “What am I supposed to wear anyhow?” 

“I don’t know, son. That’s for you to figure out I’m afraid.” Milton sets the empty mug done, standing up from the couch. “You probably got some fresh wear in your closet. Make use of it” shifting his hat Milton makes his way to the exit.

Arthur stood up after him,“You’re leaving already?” 

“I got work Mr.Morgan, government’s duty isn’t something you can halt.” Arthur drew closer to Milton and nods. Why did he have to go so soon? Knowing the man he had more important matters to attend to, he had to do what’s right, Arthur gave in. He didn’t want to hold Milton up any longer. 

“Alright I’ll….” no please, “...see ya around”. Why did he have to say it? Milton nods placing his hand on Arthur’s broad shoulder. Comfort spread, from his shoulders down to his tightening feet. A breath flowing out as he hadn’t noticed his lungs holding it in. 

“You take care now Arthur and have fun” Milton’s straighten mouth turned crooked at the corner. A smile. The agent turns pulling the door open, shutting it behind him on the way out. Left alone once more Arthur places his hand on the wood, fingers trailing down the door’s ruff surface. The walls concealing his need for company...all he had to do was turn the knob. Such a simple concept, yet a difficult task. 

His breath became to shake as he pushes his back against the door, clothing scrapping along the wood before hitting the floor. Arthur stared blankly at the dining table ahead, consumed by the quiet air. 

....

He couldn’t help but curl up in a ball.

And hold back his sobs.

....

A knock came from behind Arthur. He didn’t seem to notice, so lost in thought sound was drowned out beside his attention. 

Another few thuds vibrated the wood, “Arthur!” the voice penetrated Arthur’s head, he snapped out of the trans he couldn’t break. The quick movement from his neck made Arthur grunt. An ache starting to grow by the second. He took a moment to collect himself trying to grasp at what was going on. He glanced at the living area, rays of orange breaking through the glass window, evening. After a few seconds he notices the two mugs from earlier resting in place. A bit of distance between them. Oh......SHIT. How long had he been sitting there? When sitting with Milton the sky was gloomy covered by the clouds. But now its evening?! 

“Morgan, you asleep in there!?” The voice from the other side grew irritated. 

Shit Carson’s here. 

Arthur picked himself up. “Coming...ah-“ he stumbles, dazed and legs numb to the bone. His back pushes up against the door catching his balance. He waited for the nailing sensation to calm before moving his weight off the door and swinging it open. “Hey, I...” 

“Oh my...” Carson started “...what was you doin’ in here?” 

“U..uh...I was...uh” stuttering wasn’t helping Arthur, he needed an excuse and quick, “I..was uh..napping is all, here come in”. Arthur pulls the door open enough for Carson to step in. 

“God damn, you are one heavy sleeper Arthur, did ya know that?'' he joked. 

Arthur awkwardly smiled, he knew how fake it rested on him. How uncomfortable it looked at face value. “Ha I guess I am”. What a liar. “Why don’t you come in? Got time don’t ya?” 

“Not necessarily...at least not here. Thought we could stop by at the tailor, get ourselves some new clothing.” 

“What for?” Arthur questioned, mind now attentive.

“...to make ourselves look better. You know when huntin’ those bounties.” 

Arthur shook his head, “You being serious?” he chuckled. 

“Yes Arthur, imagine us, posters plastered on the building in our new garment. They’d be calling us ‘Thee Bounty Hunters’.” 

Arthur grunted, “Goodness Carson” he turns making his way over to the counters, a bottle of whiskey was much needed. Carson steps in trying to convince his friend, to no avail. Statement after statement Arthur blocks out the words hitting his ears. Carson wasn’t getting to him not a chance. He was too tired, both physically and mentally. He’d hope the alcohol would wash out his drowsiness, but it only escalated, making his eyes feel heavy...on the brink of collapse. 

Arthur takes in a mouthful of alcohol, still ignoring Carson as his rambling was cut short. With Arthur’s gaze away from his friend, he turns to look at him finally, at least then he would attempt to answer him. But Carson’s head was tilted down now, looking at the invitation Arthur had received from Milton. Carson met eyes with Arthur’s. 

“Where’d you get this?” he asked. 

He replied,”Milton, he suggested I should go.” Arthur frowns looking away, voice deepening, “But I don’t belong there.” 

“Nonsense Arthur! You...you just need a bit of a makeover is all. And a ‘guest’ to help guide ya” a smug look formed across Carson’s face. 

Arthur looked back at him, guest, he wasn’t being serious was he? Carson and him at the Mayor’s party, those two would stick out like a sore thumb. “Guest? The last thing they need is an ugly bastard and a clown.” Arthur was dead set on passing up this opportunity. As much as it betrays Milton’s wishes for him, he couldn’t find a reason going would justify. Although bringing Carson wouldn’t be such a bad idea, if it was anyone but him, but what's the worst that could happen Arthur thought. Aside from his friend getting the cold shoulder from the rich men whose wives he was hitting on. 

Through a loud sigh and Carson’s plead Arthur changed his mind,”If your comin’ than I expect you not to cause any commotion.” 

“So we goin’ or...”? 

“Yes we-were goin’.” 

“Sweet! Ahh can you imagine all the beauties there?”

Arthur chuckled, walking over and taking the slip out of Carson’s grasp.”Yeah I don’t think so, we’re there to enjoy ourselves.” 

“What's a fun night without some women involved?” he questioned. 

“Oh there’s plenty of great nights without one.”

The two laughed. 

“You know what that means Morgan” Carson begins ,”We gotta get ourselves a fancy suit...along with those outfits we need.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and led Carson to the exit, “In your dreams” Arthur pushes Carson out the door. “I’ll meet you at the Tailor in a few, better not see anything but a suit in your hands”. Carson puts his arms up, surrendering, trying to convey he wouldn’t follow through with his wishes. 

“I won’t, I swear” he grins ever so slightly, the face of a man who was unpredictable. The grin was enough for Arthur to shut the door on him. 

“Sure..” Arthur mumbles to himself.

-  
Arthur made his way down to the Tailor, along with his darkly coded horse. He hitched his horse up by a post before dismounting and giving the animal a small pat on its neck. Smooth to the touch Arthur whispers to his companion, “Stay here boy”. Stay Here, Stay with me Dutch.

With the warm light of the setting sun shining down upon him, Arthur pushes into the Tailor. He was welcomed with a greeting from the man behind the counter. The guy was friendly, he’d always cut down the prices of clothing for him. Always providing great deals when Arthur came in for anything new. Arthur greeted back asking if he’d seen a man with long black hair, about his height, with brown wear. Carson.The Tailor pointed to the back area of the building saying, “he’s back there.” He thanked the tailor before asking for any of the finest suits in stock. 

“Give me a moment sir,” the tailor response disappearing into the back room, moments before the door shuts behind him. He waited, arms leaning against the counter. The silence made its presence as Arthur sighed thinking about the party awaiting them in a few days. He’d hope that somehow this celebration would focus his dissolved head and put it at ease, just for one night. Just putting all of it to the side, and let loose. 

One  
Damn  
Night

Was it that hard?  
As quick as he left the tailor comes back with a variety of options. “Here’s what I’ve got,sir,'' he sets the collection of coats, pants, and shirts down in their respective groups, each with different fabric and colors. “Which one catches your eye? Most people ‘round here find the classic black and white as their preferred choice.”  
Arthur could see why it’s preferred, it had classy style to it, nothing to crazy. The other three options weren’t sticking well with him. The red outfit with black outlines peaked his interest, but the black coat and white collar shirt just immediately grabbed his attention. “I’ll take it then.”

“The black and white?”

“Yes” 

“As you wish,” the tailor slides the set over to Arthur. “Changing' rooms are back there” he suggested taking the other suits out of view. Arthur thanked the Tailor, and entered the back area. He turned to his right, knocking on the locked door he guessed Carson’s was changing in.

“Occupied” Carson called out in a somewhat startled tone. 

“Hurry it up in there” Arthur demanded. 

“Hold your reins Morgan, I’m nearly done.” 

Arthur drew his back to the wall beside the door, he looks over the outfit wrapped around his forearm. Here’s hoping it actually fit him, actually, he’d wonder if it would even look good on him. 

“Done” Carson blurred out pushing the door wide open. The door slammed against the other side of the frame, thankfully Arthur wasn’t there to face the wrath of wood against his face. Carson stepped out excited to show his friend, all he got was an unreadable expression. Arthur just glared at his friend, almost like he was trying to process a situation he couldn’t handle. He wore a yellow coat that dropped down behind his knee caps. The shirt was black stuck tight around his neck where the tie had started. Arthur...he...he didn’t even know how to speak much less think. He wanted both of them to wear a simple, unnoticeable attire. Of course Carson didn’t listen. But the way the thin cloth reflected light from the ceiling made Arthur feel differently. The outfit and Carson were one in the same, perfectly reflecting his personality. “Well?” he asked arms out to his sides like he had finished a performance. 

“I’ll be damned, maybe something blinding really is the way to go for you.” 

Carson smirked, “You know it friend! Fits in all places, as everything I own does.” 

That kind of confidence could make anyone flattered. 

He continued, “Good thing I have enough for this baby.” 

“How much you paying for...that”. 

“395$”

“Three ninty-!” Arthur caught his breath , “It’s for one night, Carson. When the hell you goin’ where that any other time then the party?” 

Carson answers, “Plenty Arthur, plenty.” Arthur definitely bought that as the truth, like hell he’d believe Carson, so repulsive. 

“Ok sure,now if you don’t mind.” 

“Ah excuse me Mister Morgan” he stepped aside bowing formally in his grace.

Arthur raised his brow stepping away and into the changing room, “Never do that again”. All Arthur could hear is Carson’s chuckle before he locks himself inside. 

Placing the clothing on the floor he turns to the mirror, ready to lift his shirt. The Scars, he remembers. Those distinct marks stretched from his arms and legs. Arthur’s body began to tremble as he stared at his reflection, disgusted and frightened by his exhaustion. Bags hanging under his eyes were more than likely pronounced. Evident of his state of mentality. He turned his back to the mirror and stripped, pants and shirt until he was fully naked. 

His shaky hand clumsily grabs hold of the black pants laying on the floor. Sliding it on took longer than it should’ve, he couldn’t control his nerves as it slowed down after being shielded by the fabric. Now a lot calmer Arthur shoves his arms through the white sleeves, protecting the arms. Buttoning up the white shirt he throws on the coat before turning to the mirror, everything fits pretty well. Although the pants could be a tad bit longer, it didn’t bother Arthur much. Even with different attire, his perspective on himself was still the same. 

He sighed, “You ugly bastard”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way longer then I expected. Sorry for the wait :''))


End file.
